


Falsa Autem ex Deo.

by MatsuRavioli



Category: Death Note
Genre: Death, Depression, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Some Non-Canon Elements, Suicide, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatsuRavioli/pseuds/MatsuRavioli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falsa Autem ex Deo:<br/>The illusion of God. </p>
<p>It has been a year since the death of her partner, and Misa Amane is finally ready to come to terms with what happened. </p>
<p>Contains spoilers for post episode 25.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falsa Autem ex Deo.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghoulhunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulhunt/gifts).



> This contains major spoilers for Death Note, so I wouldn't read any more unless you're past around episode 21. 
> 
> It takes place a year after the Death of Light, right before Misa dies.  
> I think of it as some kind of note that she'd have left, still having no memory of the Notebook and trying to cling onto to the last bit of hope that Light was innocenct, just before she passed away.

 

There are many lies in our lives that we're told.  
Some of them are very simple and harmless, like when my mother swore that if I continued to be lazy with my school work, the Namahage would come and unburden our family by taking me away from them, and some are a little worse, such as the time I ate the last few cookies from my fathers jar and blamed them on my cat.  
Of course, my father didn't believe me, but if he had, I'm sure Kei would have been in a whole heap of trouble.  
We grow to understand, and even accept many of these lies, learning that it's a part of human nature that, though unfortunate, is always going to be around.  
We grow to accept that even the people in our lives we love more than anything will lie a thousand times and that more often than not, we'll believe them, because, why would they hurt us?  
Yet despite all this, we're still shocked when a worse lie comes along.

There are lies that we accept, that aren't seen as something we should even bat an eyelid at, but then there are lies like this.

The lie when you meet someone who is a godsend to you, the perfect man, and find out that he is suspected by the police of two countries, including his members of own force, of being some kind of sadistic mass murder who has been killing criminals and anybody who stood in his way for a number of years.  
He swears he's innocent, and you're sure you'd remember that kind of thing because, after all those years of relationship, you'd notice that kind of thing going on, so you believe him.  
You spend time working on the case with him, risking your own life to prove his innocence, supporting him when he was shoved into a position of police authority.  
Standing by him when his sister was taken and ended up crippled when he lost his father.  
After six years of relationship, you become pregnant with twins.  
His twins.  
You wait a month before you tell him, just in case something goes wrong, but on the day you plan to tell him, he tells you he has a business meeting with his main accuser.  
You beg him not to go, and he tells you how important it is, how it'll clear his name and you'll both be able to settle down and be a normal couple again. You fight for an hour, and he storms out to his meeting in a rage, not telling you where it is, or when he'll be back.  
You don't tell him about the children before he goes, and neither of you says I love you.  
It's the last time you ever see him.  
He is proven guilty at the meeting, and after resisting arrest by attempting to kill the officers there, he is shot by a member of his own team, dying on that day.

That whole scenario itself sounds like a lie.  
God, I wish it was.

A year later, and I still can't get the day out of my head.  
For so long I've avoided the truth, trying helplessly to convince myself it was a mistake, that he wasn't guilty, that he'd died fighting to protect someone else, but it only made things worse.  
Every night I would wake up sick with the babies kicking and roll over, desperate for everything to have been a nightmare, for him to be laid next to me like he always had been, sleeping.  
Safe.  
And every night I was met with that sinking feeling, the knowledge that he was gone, and that our last conversation was an argument.  
That he had no idea he was going to be a dad to two children, or simply how much I loved him.

 It was January when it happened, January 28th a month and one day before his 24th birthday.  
I was well into planning his surprise party in the hopes that it would cheer him up from all the stress that was going on at work, give him a chance to remember that he had friends who cared about him and would willingly spend time with him.  
I even bought him an early present at the start of January - a small budgie to live in our apartment. He wouldn't admit it, but he thought it was just as adorable as I did, and it lifted his spirits, if only for a few days until he grew annoyed with the constant tweeting.  
**"It reminds me of you;  
****He'll also tweet for hours if you don't pay enough attention to him."  
** He wasn't wrong.  
I'd known I was pregnant for about a month, and I was finally ready to tell him.  
From the point I found out, I was certain that I would wait to tell him, and I'd contemplated telling him on his birthday, before deciding that it was far too cheesy, even by my standards, and instead I would tell him a month into it, when I wasn't so scared of losing them at the early stages.

 The argument of that morning is the only thing that I find even slightly blurry about the day.  
**"Light, you can't do this, it's too risky - you don't even know this Near guy!"  
** The more I think about it, the less I can even remember as to why it got so out of hand,  
**"You don't understand Misa, this will be the end of everything,"  
** Why something that should have been so easily resolved had turned into a full-blown fight.  
He'd slammed the door as he left, neither of us having said anything for at least an hour after the argument.  
I spent the rest of the day worried about him, trying and failing to call him to apologise, to wish him luck, to tell him I loved him.

That evening, the door went, and the task force stood there, telling me of the incident.  
**"He tried to kill us all, Misa,"  
** I didn't have time to question anything, I didn't have time to say any of the things I wanted to say to him.  
**"I had no choice in the end, I'm sorry."  
** I couldn't tell him how angry at him I was in that moment.  
Matsuda had killed my boyfriend, and he had the audacity to sit where Light once sat and tell me that he was guilty, that he'd even tried to kill people today.  
**"You won't be allowed to see his body, you understand that, don't you?"  
** Of course, I understood - but that didn't mean I'd accept it.  
**"He called out to you and said he was sorry if that's any help-"  
****"Shut up, Matsuda!"  
** God, I'd always felt sorry for Matsu, constantly the butt of everyone's jokes, but right now, I agreed with Aiazawa;  
I failed to see how it would help me - how the image of my husband, falling to the floor covered in his own blood, screaming out in agony, flailing desperately in the hopes of surviving, would be made any prettier by the added thought of him calling out my name, apologising either for the earlier argument, or the fact he had been lying to me for the whole of a six year relationship.

I kicked them out of the apartment and tried for several hours to convince myself it wasn't real.

I stood for a good half an hour, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, my fifth bottle of wine in one hand, and a bottle of prescription drugs in the other.  
Without Light, I had no purpose, no reason to stay here.  
I remembered the children, and it only pushed me more.  
These children would grow up with no father, but every time I would look at them, there was no doubt in my mind that I would see him.  
I did what was needed, and the next morning I woke up in my empty bathtub, vomit down myself and a killer hangover, regretting that I hadn't done enough to be with him again,and I missed him so much, I couldn't breathe.  
I promised myself that my next attempt would work, I planned everything out with such precision that it wouldn't fail, and I phoned his mother and sister.  
We talked for hours about the funeral arrangements, taking comfort in each other for a small amount of time.

He was buried shortly after his birthday, his body finally released from police custody.  
None of his team gave a eulogy, and after speaking to all of them afterwards, I was sure they were only there to make sure I didn't try to steal his body back, or some weird shit like that.  
He was buried next to his father, and I was found by his mother the next morning, asleep on his grave, his blazer tight around me.

I continued to visit his grave every day, speaking to him, telling him about how his family was, how the budgie had only gotten more annoying with time, and how I still hadn't planned a name for the twins.  
That was the routine until the one day I couldn't attend.  
My waters broke early in the morning of July 15th, and I had a C-section very swiftly, delivering my two children easily.  
From the moment I looked at them, I saw him in them - the deep brown eyes were enough to send me into some form of weird mental breakdown.  
I refused to look at either of them for the entire time I was in the hospital, and when I was asked to name them, I picked the first names that came weirdly into my head for the girl, and two names of irony for the boy.  
After a month of persuading the manager there exactly why it was so important they stayed at his establishment, in particular, I signed the papers, handing Rem Kozue and Light Ryusaki Yagami over to The Whammy's house orphanage.

I spent the rest of the year travelling, every place Light had ever mentioned visiting, I went there for him, and bought small, handmade gifts from the locals.  
When I returned to Japan, I gave gifts from every location to his mother and sister, and went back to his grave, also giving gifts to his father.  
I spoke to Light for an hour, telling him about the trip, about how much he would have loved it, and how much the twins looked like him when I left them.

 On February the 13th, I began writing a letter, and I walked to his house, placing it under the door, before going to his grave for the final time, placing a copy with him too.

On February the 13th, I stood on the roof of our apartment building, and waited for the right moment to join my Light.

 


End file.
